


Soul Lullaby

by white_crayon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, Identity, M/M, Not There Now, Pls don't crucify me, Underfell, first fic, self-hate, sin - Freeform, underswap - Freeform, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8236496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_crayon/pseuds/white_crayon
Summary: Somewhere along the line, something went wrong, and now there are three Sanses and three Papyruses, and a shit ton of confusion. Stretch, as he's been deemed by the others, just wants to take his brother and go home. Until they figure out what went wrong to land them here, however, they're stuck. Though, maybe being stuck with the small, nervous skeleton who calls himself Red might not be that bad. He might even be able to make a difference in how he sees himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS AN EARLY VERSION! I just went to see how the writing goes and how people like it. I will come back and fix this at a later date.

"You're fucking cheating!"  
Sans snickered and moved his piece four spaces and up the ladder. "You can't cheat at Snakes and Ladders, dude. You've just got bad luck."  
Red scowled and slouched against the couch leg. "Bullshit. You two are pulling some sort of joke."  
Stretch rolled his eyelights and blew out a stream of smoke, laying across the carpet like some sort of skeleton rug. "Stop being a sore loser. It's you're turn to roll."  
The smaller skeleton sighed and practically threw the dice to the floor. They bounced across the carpet into a corner beside the television, which was playing a Classic Mettaton program on low volume. Sans leaned over and eyed the side facing upwards. "Four and five."  
"Alright, I just need to move four forward and five backward, right?" Sans and Stretch glanced at each other, trying not to break out in laughter.  
What started out as a calm hangout night between the three (Edge, Papyrus and Blue were on an assignment with Classic Undyne for the week) turned into a nightlong board game marathon when Sans and Stretch found out that Red had never heard of checkers, along with a plethora of other old, standard games. Then, as you do, they proceeded to twist the rules just enough to piss him off. The amount of beer and smokes they'd all gone through apiece helped a lot, as well.  
"Yeah, that's right."  
Red moved, looking completely confused. "I don't get it. You guys are moving forward, and all I'm doing is going back. Am I missing something?"  
Sans couldn't hold back his laughter at this point, snorting and knocking over a bottle with his knee.  
Red immediately caught on. "You're pulling my leg bones, aren't you?"  
The only response he got was Sans keeling over on the floor in laughter. "Aw man, that was too good!"  
"You fucking assholes!" Red shouted, flipping the board and sending pieces flying everywhere. "This is just like when you told me the goal of checkers was to get all your pieces taken!"  
Stretch let out a laugh, earning him a pillow in the face. "I still can't believe you've never played checkers. Or Snakes and Ladders. What were you doin' through your whole childhood?"  
Red crossed his arms and glared at the floor. "Living in the streets, fighting for my life, mainly."  
There was an uncomfortable pause, broken only by the soft murmur of the television in the background.  
"Well!" Sans exclaimed, breaking the stillness and standing with a grunt. "I'm 'board'. Time to hit the hay." He waved and teleported upstairs, closing his door behind him with a click.  
Stretch glanced over at Red, who was still staring at the floor. "You sure you don't want the bed tonight? I can sleep on the couch." Since the Swap and Fell brothers had gotten stuck in the Classic timeline, Stretch had been sleeping in Classic Papyrus's room with Blue. He was used to sharing a bed with his little brother, who had nightmares often enough to warrant supervision, and he had to admit, he was glad to have a bed to himself. Red slept on the floor next to Edge on the couch. It took them three nights to convince Red that it was okay for him to sleep on the couch while his Boss was gone, and even then he did it with a nervousness that made Stretch sick to his stomach.  
"I'm fine," he said, waving his hand. "You go to bed. I'll clean up the games."  
Stretch knew that meant, "I'll put all of these in a pile for us to clean up an hour before they come back," but he didn't object. They already had several piles of dishes, shoes and miscellaneous clutter that they seemed to be under an unspoken oath not to speak about.  
"Alright," he relented, standing up and stretching. "Have a good sleep." He made his way up the stairs and into the bedroom.  
For Classic Pap's sake, he had been keeping the room as tidy as possible, though there was some guilty candy wrappers and bottles in the corner. He flopped onto the mattress, breathing in the clean, non-smokey smell, and (thanks to the beer and smokes) fell asleep almost instantly.

If it weren't for bodily functions, Papyrus might have actually slept through the night. Unfortunately, his bladder won out, and he groggily rolled out of bed and slouched across the room and out into the hall. He would never get over how uncanny this house was to his own, though with the slight differences, it gave off an utterly eerie vibe.  
He made it to the bathroom, stubbed his toe, did his business and fell into the shower, all without waking up the two other skeletons. Those guys sleep like rocks, he thought to himself, making his way back to the room. He caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of his eye, and he leaned over the landing to investigate. Red was sitting upright on the couch, elbows on his knees and head down. Stretch's brow furrowed. What was he doing up?  
He walked down the stairs as quietly as he could and leaned against the wall. "Can't sleep?"  
Red jumped, the clacking of his bones unnaturally loud in the stillness of the house.  
"Jesus Christ, Stretch," he grumbled, leaning back against the couch cushions. "Gotta put a bell on you or somethin'."  
He started to laugh, before remembering the studded collar the small skeleton wore and sobering up. "Well, what's the fun in that?"  
When he didn't get an answer, he walked over and sat on the end of the couch. Red instinctively moved a few inches away, leaving a fair bit of space between them. The two sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at the sparkling piles of snow. Red didn't show any signs of wanting to start a conversation, but Stretch knew all too well how it felt to have insomnia, and he was not going to let this counterpart of his brother suffer it alone.  
"What was it?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Nightmare? Sensory overload? Bad hangover?"  
Red shot him a look, looking as guarded as ever. "You know it's not your job t'analyze me, right?"  
Stretch didn't answer, just stared him in the face.  
Red sighed and looked away. "Overthinking. Dark does funny things to your mind."  
"Do I know it." Stretch stood up and gestures towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna get you a warm drink. Hot chocolate, tea, warm milk?"  
Red flushed bright enough he could see it clearly in the dark living room. "I'm good."  
"No, you're not." He grinned at him and flicked on the table lamp, before heading to the kitchen to fill up a kettle of hot water.  
Minutes later he was reentering the living room, a mug of hot cocoa steaming in his hand. He handed it to Red, who begrudgingly accepted and blew the steam away.  
They sat together, one lazily slumping against the cushions, the other stiff and uncomfortable. It wasn't before Red's mug was half empty that the silence was broken again.  
"You realize I'm not your brother, right?" Red asked, studiously avoiding Stretch's gaze. Stretch smiled and glanced fondly at the smaller skeleton.  
"I know."  
"I don't think you do." He set the mug down on the end table and looked Papyrus in the eye for the first time. "All you've done since we've met is be nice to me, even though we're both stuck in an unfamiliar timeline with unfamiliar people and you've drank more than whats's healthy for a skeleton, not that I'm one to talk. How have you not...I dunno. Hit me? Screamed at me, punished me?"  
Papyrus's composure slipped for a second, jolting in surprise. He knew by now what kind of universe Sans came from, and what kind of person his brother was, but they'd never talked about it in depth. Red had only mentioned it a few times, and those times were in casual conversations, bringing up torture and abuse as if he were commenting on the weather. It made Stretch's stomach twist in a way he couldn't describe. He just wanted to gather Red up in his arms and hold him close to his chest, close to his soul, kind of like what he did to his Sans after a nightmare, but at the same time, not like that at all. He knew this feeling and he hoped to God he was wrong, because if he wasn't, it meant a hell of a lot of trouble for him, Red, and nearly everyone in this house.  
"I want you to stop right there," he said, resisting the urge to lean over and press his teeth to Red's skull. "You're not in Underfell anymore. And even though your brother is here with you, he's on Classic's turf now. You don't have to be treated like this anymore."  
Red shot him a confused look. "Treated like what?"  
That was it. That was the last straw. After weeks of seeing this monster being constantly tormented for absolutely fuck-all, he simply couldn't take anymore.  
"Sans, look at me," he said, his voice harsher than it had been since they landed in this cruddy timeline. Red jolted at the sound of his real name and met his eyes, looking confused. Papyrus didn't know how to say what he wanted to say in a way that Red could understand.  
"You are a skeleton. More than that, you're Sans. You drink mustard straight out of the bottle, and smoke even though you don't have lungs. You have insomnia and anxiety, and are tired of all of the resets." At the mention of the resets, Sans flinched so hard he nearly fell off the couch. Papyrus reached out and grabbed his wrists with a steadying hand. He felt sick knowing why that would help focus Red, but it worked. The smaller skeleton stopped shaking and steadied his gaze.  
"But you are Sans, you are Red. You are not property. You are an individual monster with a soul and thoughts and feelings and everything that counts. You belong to nobody but yourself, and you deserve to be treated as such. Your brother doesn't own you, and how he makes you feel is wrong. Please, please just try to understand that."  
Complete and utter silence. The dim light of the table lamp cast a golden glow over Red's bones, making him seem like he was giving off light.  
"I think..." Red said in a wavering voice. "I think I want to go to sleep now."  
Stretch blinked. "Oh. Uh, yeah, okay. I'll, um, be upstairs."  
Red was nodding his head so hard that it seemed like his skull was going to fall off. "Yeah. Yes. I'll be here. Sleeping. Good night." With that, he flicked off the table lamp and laid down facing the cushions.  
Confused and tired and emotionally drained, Papyrus stood up and slowly walked up to his room.

He didn't remember stripping off his sweater and getting under the covers, but somewhere along the line be did, because when he woke up he was in his tank top and was tangled up in the sheets. For a few disorienting seconds, he didn't know why he had woken up. The room was still dark, and he felt like he hadn't slept more than an hour. Then he saw Red, tears running down his skull, soul pulsing a bright, glowing red through his t-shirt. "S-st-stretch," he whispered, his voice raspy and broken. There was vomit down his chin and shirt and he was shaking like a leaf.  
Stretch was awake in a second. "Oh god, Red, what happened?"  
Obviously, he wasn't in a state for talking, whimpering as his knees nearly buckled with a tremor.  
"Okay okay, bad question. Come here, sit here." He sat up and patted the spot beside him on the bed. Red sank down without objection, tears dripping down onto his already wet shirt. Stretch took his skull in his hands, wiping away the gunk. "Are you sick? Was it the hot chocolate?"  
Red shook his head, managing a few hoarse words. "Cried so hard...threw up. I'm fine."  
Okay, that was...not good. Stretch tugged on the sleeve of Red's shirt. "Take it off, I'll get you something to wear."  
Red numbly obliged, pulling the soiled shirt off and holding it in his shaking hands. Stretch retrieved his sweater from the floor and handed it to the smaller skeleton, who put his hands up in a weak gesture of protest.  
"Red, put it on. You need a calm and safe environment, this thing is warm and soft. So give me your shirt and put on the damn sweater."  
Red looked up at him with an expression like a kicked puppy. After a moment, he stripped himself of the shirt, took the sweater from him and slowly pulled it on.  
Stretch tossed the soiled shirt in the basket of laundry he had yet to do (mostly socks that he'd borrowed from classic Pap) and turned back to Red. His face was streaked with tear tracks, and more were welling up in his eye sockets. Without thinking, Papyrus reached out and tenderly wiped them away, causing a small sound of surprise from Red. He didn't pull away, however, not even when Papyrus's hands cupped his face and held it gently. He simply allowed it to happen, sagging into his relaxing touch.  
"What happened, Sans?" He asked softly. The smaller skeleton didn't answer at first, glancing down and hunching his shoulders. Papyrus waited. When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything more, Red sighed.  
"I started thinking about what you said. The thing is...that's the first time anyone's ever said anything like that to me. It kinda messed with my head and I broke down." He shrugged. "I appreciate the effort, but you really don't need to say that stuff. I know who I am, I know what I'm worth. And I'm okay with it."  
There was a long pause. Papyrus looked at Red, searching him. He finally exhaled, realizing he wasn't going to make anymore progress with him that night.  
"Why don't you get some sleep?" He suggested, standing up. "It'll be easier for you to doze off in an actual bed. I'll sleep on the couch. 'M not that tired anymore, anyway."  
He started walking away, and was almost out the door when Red quietly called, "W-wait!" He turned around. Red was staring at the floor, twisting the bottom of the sweater in his hands. "You can...uh...stay, if, if you want...that couch isn't very comfortable, and I-I'm o-okay with it."  
Stretch hid a smile. This was Red's way of saying that he didn't want to be alone, and it was a huge step for him to actually ask for something.  
"That sounds good to me," he said, scooting into the bed next to Red. It was kind of a small fit, but he didn't mind being pressed against his back. He yawned and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Red."  
He was just beginning to feel the first hazy dregs of sleep when he heard a quiet murmur.  
"G'night...Papyrus."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans is confused, but decides not to pry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a short chapter; I tried to keep writing it but I met a natural stopping point.  
> Also, here are the names of the characters for the person who asked:  
> Sans - mostly the good old Sans we all know and love, but Blue or Red are sometimes referred to the name, depending on who's talking.  
> Papyrus - same thing as Sans, sometimes the narrator will refer to Edge and Stretch as Papyrus.  
> Blue/Blueberry - Underswap Sans, Stretch's little brother.  
> Stretch - Underwap Papyrus, Blue's older brother.  
> Red - Underfell Sans, Edge's older brother.  
> Edge - Underfell Papyrus, Red's younger brother.

One thing Papyrus was grateful for about living underground was the lack of sunlight in the mornings. The Underground lightened and darkened depending on the time of day, but never enough to shine through the window and wake him up. What did wake him up this morning was a pair of bony feet pressing into his femurs.  
He blinked and slowly turned his head to look beside him. Red, who had started that night by laying stiff and pressed up against the side of the bed, had ended up draped across him, legs resting over his own. His skull was nestled into Stretch's chest, eye sockets closed and breathing steady. He was out cold.  
Stretch smiled, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his skull (then immediately shoving that urge down to the back of his mind, never to be thought about again). He moved to get up, before realizing that with the way they were tangled up in each other, there was no way that he would be able to without waking Red. This was a predicament.  
He was perfectly content with an excuse to lay in bed for a while longer, so he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. The digital clock on the bedside table read 10:23 AM.  
Sans murmured in his sleep, causing Stretch to snap out of his daze. His brow was furrowed, and his hands were clenching into fists inside of the sweater he was wearing. He kept making small noises that almost sounded like words, turning his head this way and that.  
Now this was something that Stretch could deal with. He wasn't sure if it would work as well with this Sans, who he had only known for a few weeks, as it did with his brother, but he would try his best.  
He adjusted himself so that his arms were loosely wrapped around the smaller skeleton, then closed his eyes and focused. His soul started glowing through his tank top, pulsing with an artificial heartbeat. After a few moments, Red's soul responded, glowing back and beginning its own steady rhythm. His troubled expression cleared and he quieted, relaxing back into Stretch. He kept the heartbeat going, allowing his magic to fade out bit by bit to avoid shaking Red out of his peaceful sleep.  
He'd learned that helpful trick ages and ages ago, back when Blue was just a babybones. Like every kid, he had bad dreams about humans under the bed, and the best way to deal with them was to deal with them while he was still asleep. His magic would react to Papyrus's, slowing it down and calming him. He couldn't remember where he picked it up, but it had come in handy more times than he could count.  
He yawned, closing his eyes. The soft beating of Red's soul made a gentle lullaby. He decided it couldn't do any harm to sleep a little longer; it's not like anyone was going anywhere.

 

By noon, Sans was getting pretty impatient. All of the notes were on the table, he'd put the games back in the boxes, he'd even solved two of the quadratic equations they needed to figure out how to get the others home, but they weren't up yet. Well, Stretch wasn't, anyway. When he went downstairs that morning, the first thing he noticed was that Red wasn't on the couch. He often disappeared for hours at a time, but that was when his brother was there. Sans would've woken up Stretch to ask him, but they'd all sworn not to disturb the others in their rooms. It was mostly because of Red's frequent panic attacks that they decided that everyone needed a room to be alone. Since the Fell brothers slept in the living room, however, they sought solitude elsewhere in the Underground. Sans didn't know where, and he didn't want to ask. Mainly because Edge scared him shitless.  
And he wasn't the only one. His tough as nails, fanged counterpart turned into a sweating, shivering, stuttering mess at the merest glance from his brother. There was something about him that suggested that he always got his way--and wasn't above going to extreme measures to get it.  
He felt bad for Red, but he'd feel even worse if he wasn't such an asshole. Sans knew he had problems, yeah, but they all did. He guessed it was partially because of the shock of winding up in a different timeline, but the guy did not know when to stop, verbally or physically. When he was with Edge, the two were an unstoppable force. It both terrified and infuriated him, but he chose to let it lie.  
By the time the clock had hit one, he was really pissed. Sighing and slamming down the bottle of ketchup in his hand, he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. Whether Stretch was smoking or sleeping, he'd surely had enough time to do it now. Sans knew better than anyone what it was like to have lazy days, but this was ridiculous. They both, Stretch and Red, needed to be taking this more seriously. How were they going to get home if they didn't get out of fucking bed?  
He made his way up the stairs and, mentally apologizing for breaking the agreement, knocked quietly on his brother's door. There was no answer, so he turned the knob and peeked inside.  
Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this. Stretch was sleeping, as he'd predicted, but Red was there too. The angry skeleton who hated being touched, jumped at the slightest contact and nearly bit Sans's head off when he'd tried to tickle his rib bones, was curled up like a puppy into him, soul gently glowing under what looked like Stretch's sweater. Alternatively, Stretch seemed to be cuddling him, holding him close to his ribcage. The scene was so weird, he had to close the door and recollect his thoughts.  
A small part of him wanted to wake the two of them up and demand what the hell they were doing, but the sensible part of his brain insisted that whatever was going on, it probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt it. He sighed and went back downstairs on his own.  
"I guess I'll graph those magic levels by myself," he muttered, opening the fridge for another ketchup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, the response on this story has been incredible. I posted the first chapter last night, went to sleep, and woke up to overwhelmingly positive feedback. I'll try to update this as often as I can, but school can be pretty hectic. Thank you all so much for your kind words and your interest in this story!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual tension and bad puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's really short, I'm working on a longer chapter (with sin ;)) that will be later in the book. For now, have a sexually frustrated Red and a punny Stretch.

Sans had woken up in a varied array of strange places, including the dumpster at Chillby's and on top of Boss's shed, but this morning, he knew something was wrong before he even opened his eye sockets. There were arms wrapped around him, not tight enough to be trying to restrain him, and his head was against a...ribcage?  
He let out a startled yell and kicked whatever he was firmly up against hard enough to launch him out of the arms and skull-first onto the floor. It was a moment before he remembered that he was in the Swap brothers' room, sleeping in the bed next to Stretch because...because why? His head hurt, and the remnants of last night were hazy. He remembered a mug of hot chocolate, some yelling, then...crying. Crying and being sick in the sink before...going into Stretch's room and waking him up.  
It was coming back now. He held up his hands, which were covered by the heavy orange sleeves of the lazy skeleton's hoodie.  
There was a low grunt from the bed; speak of the devil. Stretch sat up and blinked down at him through bleary, half-lidded eyes.  
"Y'know, I can appreciate a wake-up call, but that might've been overdoing it," he said, rubbing his ribs. Sans felt a blush creep into his face at the sound of his voice, rough and low with sleep. That, combined with the fact that he could see the sides of his ribcage through the black tank top he was wearing, made his non-existent insides twist.  
"'S not my fault you decided to squeeze me like a fucking teddy bear," he grumbled, standing and popping his neck bones. "The hell did you think was gonna happen?"  
Stretch chuckled and followed suit, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching. "Heh. Sorry about that. I'm used to sleeping with Blue, and he's big on cuddles."  
Red couldn't hold back a laugh at that, remembering his first meeting with his energetic, blue-magicked counterpart. "Well, I ain't. Keep that in mind next time you kidnap me, yeah?"  
Stretch rolled his eyelights. "You were the one who latched onto me the second you fell asleep. Wanna give me that back?"  
"Huh? Oh." Red's skull flushed as he quickly removed the sweater. "You didn't need to give me that. 'S not like I've never slept shirtless before."  
When he didn't get a response, he glanced over his shoulder. Stretch was standing there, cheeks a light orange, staring at him. He whistled and waved a hand at him.  
"Earth to Stretch. You're not gonna make some sort of snappy comeback?"  
He blinked, eyelights refocusing on Red. "Oh. It's, uh, no 'sweat'er."  
Red snorted, balling up the hoodie and throwing it at Stretch's chest. "That was just sad."  
The taller skeleton grinned, catching the sweater and sliding it on. "Maybe so, but it's you who's 'losing your Edge'."  
The other exploded with laughter, shaking his skull and grabbing a t-shirt from Papyrus's closet. "Okay, we're done here."  
"Are you 'shir't?"  
That last one earned him a pillow in the face. Red pulled the too-big shirt over his skull, turning around with a shit-eating grin on his face.  
"I'm absolutely 'shirt'ain."  
Stretch groaned, but he was smiling. "Okay, okay. Let's just go downstairs. Sans'll probably be in the shed by now." Since they'd started working on getting the Fell and Swap brothers back home, Stretch, Red and Sans (the only ones who had in-depth understanding of physics and engineering) had moved the old, broken machine in Sans's room into the shed for more space.  
Red smirked. "Way ahead of you," he said, before teleporting to the bottom of the stairs.  
Stretch shook his head, grinning. "Smart ass."

 

The door clicked as Red left the house. Papyrus made absolutely sure he was gone before leaning against the wall with a deep sigh. He had almost blown it just then, seeing Red take off his sweater like that. He was so much like Sans, but at the same time, so different. He was...real, blunt. You could even call him rude. But at the same time, he was sweet, and...small. Scared. The scars on his bones were a testament of the world he lived in (and who he lived there with). Everything about him, right down to the shade of his magic, was harsh, and sharp. But every so often, you could see right through the facade he put on, to the real Sans. And every time that happened, Papyrus was reminded that he was boned.

Heh. Boned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high, and Stretch isn't helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it's ten-thirty, I forgot to post the fucking preview yesterday, have some confused, grammatically incorrect HoneyMustard.

"I can't do this anymore."  
There was a clang as Red threw down his wrench and crossed his arms, glaring at the twisted hunk of metal they were working on. It had been six straight hours of hard work, and the machine was no closer to looking like...well, a machine.  
Stretch popped up from underneath with a hammer in hand, grease smeared across his skull. His hoodie lay abandoned in a corner, and he was left (to Red's frustration) in that damn loose tank top that defined his ribs and shoulder blades. It was stupid, annoying, and hot as fuck.  
"Look, I know this is difficult, and that we're hitting a bit of a dead end--"  
"Try brick wall," Sans muttered from the work table, where he was fixing the blueprints.  
Stretch rolled his eyelights. "Thanks. At any rate, no offense, but I kind of want to get home. So if you feel the same, we've got to keep going."  
Red's eyelights glowed dangerously. "You trying to say somethin' about me?"  
Stretch let out a frustrated sigh and rolled back under the machine.  
"No, answer me!" Red kicked the roller, sending Stretch careening out from under the machine and crashing into a pile of boxes. He sat up, eye glowing orange, and used his magic to lift Red into the air and slam him into the far wall. Growling angrily, Red picked himself off the ground and summoned his gold-fanged, feral-looking Gaster Blaster.  
BANG!  
BANG!  
Blue magic glowed in the small shed as both Stretch and Red were smashed into opposite walls. Sans was standing, the blueprints scattered on the ground in front of the table. His left eye socket was glowing, and there was a tense expression on his face.  
"If you two children are done, we've got a shit ton of work to do, and not enough time to do it. So Stretch, get back under the machine. And Red, pick up that wrench again or so help me Asgore I will hang you on that ceiling lamp like a wet coat."  
The two skeletons dropped to the floor, Stretch, falling back on the boxes, and Red landed straight on his ass on the hard cement floor. They glared at each other for a minute, before looking away and following Sans's instructions.  
He sighed and picked up the blueprints, scribbling out the notes and starting over again.

 

It was almost twelve in the morning when the knock came at Stretch's door. He took a moment to collect himself before swinging his legs out of bed, padding across the room and opening the door.   
Sure enough, Red stood in the threshold, twisting the hem of his shirt in his phalanges.  
"Can I come in?" He asked softly, staring at the ground. Without saying anything, Stretch opened the door all the way and walked over to the bed, flopping down and looking expectantly at Red.  
The smaller skeleton let out a barely audible sigh, tentatively sitting beside him.  
There was a long, awkward silence that stretched out for what seemed like hours. Stretch didn't say anything, however, just looking at Red with his elbows resting on his knees.  
Finally, Red sighed and hung his head. "I'm...I'm. Uh, you know..."  
Stretch waited.  
"I'm sorry." His skull flushed red, and he glared intensely at the floor.  
He was caught off guard when Stretch put an arm around him, drawing a sharp intake of breath and a startled look.  
"I'm sorry, too," Papyrus said, looking him straight in the the eyes. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. Can you forgive me?"  
Red's face glowed brighter and his shoulders hunched; though, he didn't try to shake his arm off.  
"I forgive you," he said in barely a whisper.  
Stretch nodded, not breaking his gaze for a moment. "Good. Then I hope you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do."  
Red lifted his head to ask what he meant, but before he could get one word out, his mouth was covered by Stretch's. His eye sockets widened, and every one of his instincts screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something.  
But for once, he went against what his body was telling him. Instead of kicking Stretch in the skull and running for his miserable life, he reached up to wrap his arms around the taller skeleton's neck, closing his eyes and letting it happened.  
The sound of their teeth gently clacking together was the only noise in the room. Red had kissed other monsters, sure, but never anything this...intimate. This was personal, this was sweet, this was absolutely amazing. His soul beat hard and fast underneath his jacket, and he could feel every single bone on his body. He felt alive.  
When they finally pulled apart, he looked Stretch straight in the eyes.  
"You're making it really hard to be mad at you," he muttered, giving him a small grin. Stretch laughed and leaned back on his hands. "That's my specialty."  
There was another silence, but this one was more comfortable. Red felt his bones tingling, and all he found himself holding back a giddy grin. Half of him wanted to push Stretch down on the bed and kiss the life out of him, but the other half...his smile faltered a little and he broke the eye contact.  
"Well. I'm going to go to bed." He stood and adjusted his jacket and, without looking at Stretch, swiftly left the room.  
Confused and a little hurt, the taller skeleton watched him go, phalange-tips brushing against his teeth where they had met Red's. After a few minutes staring at the open door, he flicked off the lights, laid back, and closed his eyes.  
He didn't fall asleep for a long, long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short-ass chapter after a long-ass wait. Stretch makes some decisions and Red gets the wrong idea.

Stretch sighed as he leaned against the side of the shed. Smoke mingled with the mist of his breath in the lightly falling snow. It had been a lazy sort of day, and they hadn't gotten much done besides some of the math and a few blueprint revisions.  
His mind wandered as the nicotine flooded his bones, calming him. Red hadn't spoken to him at all since the incident, hadn't even looked him in the eye socket. Truth be told, it hurt more than a little. He'd really thought they'd had something...though maybe it was just wishful thinking clouding his vision. Honestly, it wouldn't have surprised him.  
If that was the case, he needed to take all of these ideas and get rid of them. Otherwise, he'd never be able to form a healthy relationship with the other skeleton.  
Not to mention how taxing this must be on Red. All of this confusion, all the mixed signals stretch was sending him. He really didn't need that in his life.   
Stretch's mind was made up. No more wishful thinking or guilty imaginings involving Red. From now on, he would pretend he didn't feel a twinge of longing when their eyes happened to meet from across the shed (something that had been happening a lot more frequently). He would resist the urge to slip out of his room and peer over the bannister to make sure Red wasn't having a nightmare. And no matter what happened, he would not think about the kiss.  
Feeling satisfied, he flicked his cigarette to the ground, kicking some snow over it for good measure. All he had to do was pretend that he didn't feel anything, and force his mind to remain clear of any tempting thoughts.  
Yeah. Good plan.  
~~~  
Red was perplexed by the amount of emotions in this timeline.  
Back home, nobody displayed any outward signs of affection, sadness, happiness...nothing but anger really. And even that was dangerous; it gave your enemies a way of knowing what things made you emotional. Emotions meant that you were vulnerable. And vulnerability meant death.  
He had to admit that he was probably the worst monster in the entire underground at controlling his emotions, especially his anxiety. Back when Pap had been a babybones, needing protection and strength, he'd had no problem protecting him, even with his 1 HP. He'd been known as a tough, dangerous monster, capable of dusting any doubters in a single blow. He was someone to be feared, and everyone knew not to mess with him or his brother.  
That was before. Before Papyrus hit a scary-high magic spike, making him shoot up in a matter of weeks. Before he'd started picking fights with any monsters who looked at him sideways, just to get rid of the excess magic. Before he'd showed up to Undyne's house and dusted her, claiming the title of Royal Guard after a fight that lasted three hours. Before he collared Sans and gave him a scar that would never leave, just above his eye socket, just to prove that he was officially the stronger one. That he would always be the stronger one.  
After that, Sans had changed. He grew more anxious, sweating like a dog whenever he was under stress...which was always. He physically shrunk, curling up out of fear, putting a permanent curve in his spine that made him appear shorter than he was. He shook, often hard enough to make his bones rattle. He was the laughingstock of the underground: the strong, tough-as-nails monster turned to a sweating, shivering fool who couldn't protect himself. Papyrus had given him very clear orders not to fight back against any monster who attacked him. Sans guessed it was to prevent people from thinking that he surpassed or even matched his younger brother in strength. The first time he was jumped, he hadn't gotten away fast enough, earning him two broken ribs and a lost tooth. When he'd confronted Papyrus about not being able to fight back, all he'd said was, "You have the power to teleport. Use it."  
But here, his anxiety wasn't something to be worried about. The other brothers expressed when they were happy or upset with no second though, and there weren't any repercussions for it. Hugging, laughing, crying...all of it was acceptable, normal even. It freaked him out.  
Despite that, he found that this time, it was the lack of emotions that was disturbing him. Specifically, from Stretch.  
The tall skeleton had never been as overly dramatic as his brother or Classic Pap, but you could tell what he was feeling by what he said, how he acted and held himself. But in the last few days since the...well, since the incident, he'd been almost completely the opposite. His face hardly changed, except when his jaw twitched up at a particularly bad pun. He had hardly spoken to Sans, which he knew was partially his fault for not trying to initiate conversation. But even when they talked, it was brief and shallow. It was almost as if he'd shut himself off from Red completely.  
He'd gone over the kiss a thousand times in his head. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was pointless to think about, but he couldn't help it when it crawled its way into his head at night. Reliving the event made his bones tingle in such a pleasant way, in a way that brought him energy and excitement, two things he hadn't truly felt in years. And thinking about that brought up another question: did it make Stretch feel the same way?  
Obviously not. If anything, it had been unpleasant, even disgusting, what with the way he was closing Red out. He probably didn't want anything to do with him again. The thought that they would probably never regain the friendship they'd been building was enough to give Red a sickening jolt in his gut. He tried to push it down and not think about it, but it continued to itch at him nonetheless. Slowly, and unable to do anything about it, Red felt himself begin to fall back into a depression.  
He needed to remind himself who he was. What he was. Where he belonged.  
Why he didn't deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a longer chapter but I needed to get something out. In other news, I'm back and hopefully going to be working towards more of a plot!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woo, we've got some Classic Sans dialogue and some feels. The last part of this chapter was inspired by a picture, I can't find it at the moment but as soon as I do I'll link it.

Sans was not stupid. Lazy? Yes. Unmotivated? Yes. Depressed? Probably. But stupid? Far from it.  
He'd known there was something going on between Stretch and Red from day one. He saw the way they both looked at each other, then quickly looked away before anyone noticed. They were basically blushing, fumbling teenagers around each other. And he swore to Asgore, there was more sexual tension between them than between RG 01 and 02.  
At first, he'd considered bringing it up, but that was really just to settle his own curiosity. He knew that the last thing they probably wanted was to draw attention to how obvious they were being.  
Despite that, he couldn't ignore the negative effect it was having on their work. They were the only ones out of the six who understood the multiverse to any extent, and between their work on the machine and their research into how the universes were linked, they didn't have time to get distracted. And distracted they were. It was either that the two were at each other's throats, or they wouldn't be talking, looking at or going near each other.   
It was, to be honest, pretty infuriating. He couldn't blame them, and he didn't--but he wished they would just be more focused. Which for him, was kind of hypocritical.  
Despite his frustrations, he couldn't deny that he had grown fond of his new friends. So when he woke up one morning the day before the others were due back to see Stretch pacing the empty living room, he was (naturally) worried.  
"Red's not here," the taller skeleton said in a barely-controlled voice. A lit cigarette was clenched in his usually-relaxed fingers. "He's not anywhere in the house or the shed."  
Minutes later, the two were sitting at the kitchen table with bottles of ketchup and honey in their respective hands. Sans found himself trying to comfort an extremely anxious monster, who was uncharacteristically on edge, his leg bouncing underneath the table.  
"What if he got in trouble?" Stretch demanded for the fourth time, clenching the honey so hard a little squirted out the top. "Yeah, he's from Underfell, but he still only has 1 HP. He could've gotten lost, or gotten into a fight, or--"  
"Just shut up and let me think!" Sans shouted, slamming his ketchup on the table. Stretch looked at him in surprise at the outburst. He sighed and ran a hand over his skull.  
"Edge and him disappear all the time together. He's probably just gone somewhere to be alone."  
"That's the problem: he's alone," Stretch protested, leg bouncing faster. "And if he gets into trouble, his asshole brother isn't there to protect him." He sighed and stood. "I'm going out to look for him."  
"Str-" Sans started to call him back, but before he could finish the word, there was a zap and he was gone.  
Sans signed and downed the rest of his ketchup.  
~~~  
"Red!" Papyrus called, listening for a response before jumping a few yards ahead. "Red!"  
He knew that he was being irrational, that Red was probably fine somewhere by himself, but he couldn't help the feeling of panic that gripped his chest. He'd woken up early that morning feeling like something was off, only to discover that the small, anxious skeleton was nowhere to be found. In the space between the discovery and the time that Sans woke up, he'd managed to envision a hundred different scenarios all ending in a pile of dust somewhere, forgotten in Undertale.  
He swore under his breath and broke into a sprint.  
He steered clear of the busy main streets of Snowdin, sure that the smaller monster would seek out more of a secluded area. He checked back alleys, behind houses, even in a particularly large trash can, but Red was nowhere to be found.  
Half an hour later, Stretch found himself in Waterfall. It was eerie, how closely this universe resembled his own while still being so different. He wasn't used to seeing Ice Cream Pants so happy, or so frequently. It was a little off-putting, him popping up in little nooks and crannies, excitedly offering nice cream to whomever passed through his vision.  
Stretch quickened his pace.  
He stopped when he reached a thicket of echo flowers. They were almost hiding a trail that lead off the main path. Now this was something that he hadn't seen before.  
He followed the path, noting how quiet the echo flowers were being. They lined the path, but they weren't making any noise. He wondered how many people knew about this route.  
The trail ended in another patch of flowers, obscuring the entrance to another room. Stretch checked behind him once more before peeking into the cavern.  
Red was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. The crystals were dim here, giving it the impression of a candlelit room. There were even more flowers in here, lining the room, yelling something in angry voices, but Stretch couldn't make it out from here. He slipped inside.  
The smaller skeleton didn't startle when he took a seat next to him. He didn't even lift his head. It almost seemed as though Red hadn't noticed him, though he'd surely heard him come in.  
After minutes passed with him not acknowledging the presence of the other monster, Stretch sighed and turned his attention to the rest of the room. He listened to the echo flowers for a lack of a better thing to do.  
His soul went cold.  
The flowers were echoing in his voice; Fell's. The tone was sharp, angry, condescending. And the words...  
He couldn't make out everything with the phrases overlapping each other, but he did manage to pick out some disturbing things.  
"You're a good-for-nothing piece of shit. You deserve this."  
"Kneel, you worthless mutt."  
"Stop crying. You need to be disciplined."  
"Take it like the whore you are."  
"If you ever talk back to me again, I'll throw you to the dogs and let them have their way with you."  
Red was curled up, listening to the last things his brother had said to him. It was almost like he was...conditioning himself.  
"Sans, stop!" Stretch yelled, shaking him. The flowers nearest to him, which had been spewing profanities, paused before taking up the new words.  
Red lifted his head, and the stare he gave Stretch was empty and blank. He smacked his hands away, glaring. "Don't touch me," he said in a low voice. Stretch's heart broke at how dull his expression was. He turned back to his initial position, listening once more to the degrading echoes of his brother.  
Stretch couldn't bear listening to the horrible words. He got up and knelt beside a patch of echo flowers, whispering to them. They paused their dialogue to listen, then echoed back what he'd said. Satisfied, he moved the the next patch. He did this over and over again until, little by little, the screams of pain and shouts of anger were replaced by his soft, gentle voice.  
"You're strong."  
"You're special, Red."  
"You are worth it."  
Slowly, Red lifted his head and watch Stretch making his way around the room, mumbling words of encouragement and spilling his true feelings. It wasn't until he finished off with the last bunch by the entrance that he turned around and saw the tears streaming down Red's face, dropping off of his skull onto his jacket. He was shaking, pulling his coat around him like he was cold.  
Stretch cautiously approached him again and sat down.  
"I'm glad I met you."  
"Please, don't give up."  
"Red, stay determined."  
Red held Stretch's stare, tears still overflowing from his sockets. He sniffed and tried to hide his face in his hands, but Papyrus reached out and gently took them, pressing them to his chest.  
This time, he didn't pull away.  
"You're beautiful."  
"You make me happy."  
They stayed like that for a long while, staring at each other, listening to the whispers of the echo flowers. Red's tears hadn't stopped, and he didn't make an effort to stop them. He still shook silently. Finally, after opening and closing his mouth a few times, he managed to get out a single word.  
"Why?"  
A single flower that had been saying, "You make me happy," took up the new word. "Why? Why? Why?"  
Stretch squeezed his hands tighter, looking him in the eye.  
"Because I love you."  
A visible tremor ran through Red's body, more tears spilling out of his sockets. The lone flower stopped again, changing its words once more.  
"I love you. I love you.  
"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you all so much for the support I've gotten on this story. It's honestly a huge motivator when I see comments saying that it's cute or you liked it, and it makes me a lot more confident in my writing! I really, really appreciate it!


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